This season, the English Touring Opera are focusing on baroque opera from Venice. In choosing three very different works – Monteverdi’s Coronation of Poppea (1643), Francesco Cavalli’s Jason (1649), and George Frideric Handel’s Agrippina (1709) – this season is well-placed to demonstrate the early development of the genre. Indeed, ETO director James Conway states in the trailer for the current season: “If people could come to three nights of opera, they would see all that opera became, as well as all that opera was”.

In the early seventeenth century, opera was composed primarily for private performances at the courts of Florence, Mantua and Rome. Monteverdi, for example, was employed at the court of Duke Vicenzo Gonzaga in Mantua, for which he wrote his first opera Orfeo in 1607. The development of opera in Venice, however, was a decidedly commercial affair. In 1637, a touring company from Rome produced and staged a performance of Andromeda at Venice’s Teatro San Cassiano, which had been converted into a ‘teatro de musica’ for the season. This was the first time opera was produced for a ticket-buying public, and the venture escalated over the next few years. Three more opera houses opened between 1639 and 1641. By 1741, there were multiple performances of up to eight different operas per season – all available to the paying public – and tourists came to Venice during the carnival specifically to attend the opera. For example, Englishman John Evelyn toured Italy in the mid-seventeenth century and recorded in his diary of 1645:

We went to the Opera, where Comedies and other plays are represented in recitative music, by the most excellent musicians, vocal and instrumental, together with a variety of scenes painted and contrived with no less art of perspective, and machines for flying in the air, and other wonderful notions. So taken together it is doubtless one of the most magnificent and expensive diversions the wit of men can invent … this held us by the eyes and ears till two in the morning.

The demand for operas in Venice saw Monteverdi – having by this time retired from opera composition – produce three more operas: Il ritorno d’Ulisse (1640), Le nozze d’Enea e Lavinia (1641), and L’incoronazione di Poppea [The Coronation of Poppea] (1643). In addition to being Monteverdi’s last opera, it is likely that Poppea was his last work altogether. It is also believed to be the first work drawn from a historical (rather than mythological) source. The primary source for Giovanni Francesco Busenello’s libretto was thought to be the last four books of the Annals by Tacitus (c. AD 56–post 117), covering the reign of Emperor Nero from AD 54-68. Busenello’s libretto breaks hugely from the operatic traditions of the time, promoting desire, power and ambition above reason, virtue or morality. The prologue features the figures of Fortune, Virtue, and Love, disputing who holds the greatest power over humanity. Love wins the dispute, which he claims the opera plot will justify: Ottone (sung by Michael Czerniawski) returns from war to discover that his love, Poppea (Paula Sides), has left him for Nerone (the emperor Nero, played by Helen Sherman). Nerone plans to divorce his wife, Ottavia, and marry Poppea, despite the counsel of the philosopher Seneca (Piotr Lempa), who is subsequently sentenced to death. Meanwhile Ottone unsuccessfully plots with Drusilla (Hannah Sandison) to kill Poppea, which leads to their exile, along with Ottavia. Poppea triumphs and becomes Nerone’s empress.

ETO’s current production of Poppea is a revival of a November 2012 production directed by James Conway, which transplants the classical drama into a Stalinist dystopia. As Conway states in his programme essay ‘Power Play’, ‘reading about the revolutionary ego and Stalin’s bruising reign convinced me that this was a place in which Nerone might flourish’. There are obvious parallels here. Yet the presentation of ETO’s season as a whole, which encourages prospective audiences to follow the development of Venetian opera, rendered this relocation less than convincing. Touring with this interpretation in isolation may have been more successful, but as it stands there is little to connect ETO’s Poppea to the Venetian theme that ostensibly ties the season together. The cast’s costumes are drawn gratuitously from multiple decades and locations identifiable only as ‘retro’ socialist iconography, including Leninist flat caps, wartime leather trench-coats, Mao-inspired trouser suits, east-German youth movement uniforms … yet Poppea wears a pinafore and patent leather shoes with bobby socks, and Seneca a Roman tunic. A number of symbolic gestures also baffled several audience members. Poppea appeared frequently with her teddy bear, which observed the final duet between Poppea and Nerone from above. These images grated somewhat with Conway’s assertion that the character is a ‘calculating temptress … [with] a taste for power’. The only clue seems to lie in the art deco portrait of a young girl and her teddy bear by Tamara de Łempicka, which appears in the season’s programme. On the other hand, accepting this link would blur the production’s iconography even further, given that Łempicka was a Polish artist who fled St. Petersburg in 1917 and spent most of her life in exile from the Soviets. This lack of cohesion is disorientating, and a little clichéd: there were even faux-Cyrillic reversed Rs and Ns. Although Conway offers the caveat that there are ‘no precise correspondences’ in the historical context he has chosen, this admission poses the more worrying suggestion that the production team is content to aestheticise and stretch several particularly brutal periods of the twentieth century, each with a good deal to teach us about the dangers of power and the value of free speech. Histories like these matter.

Samal Blak’s set designs are always masterful in making efficient, yet ingenious, use of the stage. The two-tier design allowed the audience to observe multiple events simultaneously, while not suggesting that these events were taking place in the same space. Moveable walls for the most part provided a good way of articulating subtler scene changes, for example, in or outside of Poppea’s bedroom. There was also no denying the high quality of the acting and singing from the whole cast. Refreshingly humorous in such a serious setting was John-Colyn Gyeantey’s Arnalta, Poppea’s nursemaid. Hannah Pedley and Hannah Sandison also produced stunning technical performances. However, if there were a main criticism to be had of the cast, it would be that their characterisations did not always come through in their singing, whereas their acting was always superb. This cannot be said of Paula Sides though who, true to the excellent form we have come to expect of her at ETO, was able to convey every nuance of her Poppea through her voice. Indeed, Sides was also the only singer who achieved any real expressive contrast through dynamics. Helen Sherman’s Nerone equalled Sides’s expressivity in the couple’s final duet – now almost certainly known not to have been composed by Monteverdi, but appended for a later performance of the opera. This was undoubtedly the highlight of the evening: the juxtaposition of the beauty and tenderness of Sides and Sherman’s performance with the silhouettes of the exiled or, in most cases, deceased characters reappearing in the background was chilling. It was a real shame that the build-up to this final scene was undermined by persistent problems with the surtitles. Indeed, surtitle discrepancies, inaccuracies, and even an Apple desktop background intruded on all three operas at one point or another.

Finally, a note on the Old Street Band, ETO’s period instrument ensemble who are touring with them this season. Conway noted that ‘Venetian opera is the closest opera gets to being really great plays’.  This was certainly true of Monteverdi’s score: in order to minimise interruptions to the drama itself, the boundaries between aria and recitative are blurred, giving it the feel of a ‘sung play’ that proceeds seamlessly with few abrupt contrasts in musical form. Unfortunately, any interpretive decisions that might have been taken to nuance or otherwise shape Monteverdi’s accompaniments were sadly not. The ensemble’s gargantuan continuo section – featuring two keyboards, two theorbos, a harp, and a cello – jangled away together throughout the performance with little respite; such monotony leading us to believe that no one ever played a chord in the seventeenth century. This was all the greater shame, as the quality of any individual’s playing would otherwise be excellent.

Fortunately, the Old Street Band’s limited imagination in terms of accompaniment was only applicable to Poppea, as Cavalli’s Jason – the second of ETO’s Venetian operas – already has a more distinguishable musical structure to build upon. Although Jason was premiered only six years after Poppea,the separation of recitative and aria is more prominent. As musicologist Ellen Rosen notes in the programme, by 1649 the emergent genre of public opera had already become moulded to satisfy audience expectations. Newly established conventions ranged from plot subject and structure, character relationships and types, vocal ranges, orchestra function and distinctions between recitative and aria. Although Cavalli, like Monteverdi before him, exploited the expressive possibilities of recitative to create a sense of unbroken drama, arias had become an expectation: audiences came to hear virtuosic performances by their favourite singers. Unlike later operas, the arias in Jason are employed at opportune moments – such as love scenes – to complement the dramatic action rather than interrupt it. Here, the Old Street Band provided superb accompaniment, with some particularly fine playing from Kate Latham on the recorder, as well as solo accompaniments from harpist Frances Kelly, and theorbists David Miller and Jadran Duncumb. The communication between the orchestra and the singers was also more fluent in Jason, an improvement quite possibly due to increased familiarity with the performance space.

Cavalli’s tenth opera was also the most popular opera of its day, and perhaps even the most successful opera of the seventeenth century. Indeed, even the first season saw five different editions of the libretto and a revival in the following year. The following decade saw Jason widely performed across the Italian peninsula, including Milan, Lucca, Florence, Bologna, Piacenza, Vicenza, Naples, Rome, and probably even Vienna. Cavalli’s only collaboration with librettist Giacinto Andrea Cicognini, the background to the plot of Jason is drawn from the Greek myth of Jason’s quest for the Golden Fleece. However, in order to ensure the story complied with audience expectations of a happy ending, new characters and scenarios were added.

ETO’s production begins with Apollo (Peter Aisher) welcoming the audience to the wedding of Jason (Clint van der Linde) and Medea (Hannah Pedley). However, we come to realise that Jason already has a pregnant wife, Isiphile (Catrine Kirkman), whom he has abandoned on the island of Lemnos, and that Medea also has a previous lover, Egeus (John-Colyn Gyeantey). Jason, along with his henchman Hercules (Andrew Slater), must fulfil his destiny of obtaining the Golden Fleece, and the duo set sail after Medea performs a magical charm to protect them. Meanwhile Cupid (Michael Czerniawski) casts another spell, forcing the characters to land in Lemnos, where the pregnant Isiphile is waiting. Jason orders Hercules to kill Isiphile so he can be with Medea, but Hercules accidentally throws Medea into the sea instead. She is rescued by Egeus while Isiphile selflessly offers to kill herself, thereby freeing Jason to find happiness. The final act sees Jason reunited with Isiphile, and Medea with Egeus.

This new production, directed by Ted Huffman, uses a highly pruned yet witty version of the libretto as prepared by the late Ronald Eyre in the 1980s. Samal Blak’s elegant, unimposing set designs lend the production an air of unforced simplicity. The white-washed walls and grand staircase of the wedding scene, used throughout act one, provide an effective contrast with the gloomy wilderness of Lemnos in acts two and three. Moreover, in the absence of a specific historical context imposed upon the production as a whole, magic tricks and special effects such as flaming books and water changing colour ingeniously captured something of the ‘carnival’ experience seventeenth-century audiences would have been treated to.

Once again, the singing and acting were admirable overall, even though Royal College of Music student Peter Aisher, standing in for Stuart Haycock, gave an uncomfortable opening as Apollo. Despite this, his performance of the stuttering Demus (servant of Egeus) was excellent: he gave a witty performance, totally absorbed in the character. This was even more commendable because, in addition to standing in at short notice for Haycock, this was also Aisher’s professional debut. The double act between Demus and Orestes (Piotr Lempa) was hilarious, regularly provoking laughter from the audience.

Hannah Pedley gave another excellent performance, the superb tone and clarity of her voice well suited to the character of Medea. More could have been done, however, in Pedley’s ‘witchcraft’ scene. Ace McCarron’s effective lighting helped to create an ethereal atmosphere on stage, but perhaps Pedley could have given a little more to convey the ‘other-worldliness’ of her actions. And while the off-stage chorus was well performed, it would have been more effective if it had been represented by a particular ‘presence’ on stage. As it was, it did not seem to represent anything, aside from creating an atmosphere. Consequently, this scene disappointingly lacked an eeriness and chill that initially looked so promising. The sweetness and desperation of Catrine Kirkman’s Isiphile provided a perfect contrast to the dignified and controlling Medea. Her fragility transfixed the audience during her final aria, in which she offers to take her life. This was unquestionably the finest, most convincing performance of the evening. Overall, Huffman’s vision allowed for an ideal balance between the tragedy and comedy of the opera, which would have been sought-after by Venetian audiences in the seventeenth century, and this was realised to full effect by a talented cast.

ETO’s final opera this season transports us forward sixty years to the early eighteenth century, with Handel’s Agrippina. Here, as Conway stated, we are able to see ‘all that [Venetian] opera had become’. In 1706, Handel travelled to Italy for three years, where he absorbed the latest developments in opera, producing Agrippina towards the end of his stay. It is written for a larger and more varied orchestra, begins with a full orchestral overture, and recitatives and arias are now fully distinguished from one another. The arias, often highly ornamented, serve both to convey the emotions of the characters and to enable the singers to demonstrate their virtuosity. In fact, as Guy Dunman’s programme essay suggests, audiences would go to the opera specifically to be amazed by the virtuosity of the singers. He writes that most subscribers would have attended most performances of any given opera and, often knowing the story anyway, would conduct business or play card games during the recitatives, pausing only during the arias to admire their favourite performers.

Agrippina was performed twenty-seven times during its first run at the Teatro S Giovanni Gristosomo in 1709 and, although Handel himself did not revive the opera after leaving Italy, it gained him international popularity, being revived in London (1711), Naples (1713), Hamburg (1718) and Vienna (1719). The opera was a collaboration with librettist Vincenzo Grimani and, although based on historical characters, the plot is fictional. Upon hearing that her husband Claudio (Andrew Slater) has been killed in battle, Agrippina (Gillian Webster) tries to secure the throne for her son Nerone (Jake Arditti).However, it transpires that the commander of the army Ottone (Clint van der Linde) actually saved Claudio’s life and has been appointed his successor as a reward. Agrippina knows that both Ottone and Claudio are attracted to Poppea (Paula Sides) and subsequently plays them off against each other in an attempt to re-secure the throne for her son. Poppea, however, upon realising that she has been used as Agrippina’s pawn, seeks revenge by setting up Nerone, thereby embarrassing Agrippina. Ultimately, Ottone declines the throne, choosing instead to marry Poppea, Nerone is named as Claudio’s heir, and the couples are reunited with their original partners.

The production appeared to be set loosely in a late seventeenth- or early eighteenth-century time frame, and Blak’s set design was extremely successful. This time, it consisted of an attractive revolving centrepiece featuring three different scenes. The costumes – also period-inspired – were slightly quirky and exaggerated. Agrippina, for example, wore gold leggings under her period dress, a huge wig, and pale make-up with exaggerated features. The result was that the cast looked rather like caricatures of their time-period. Perhaps due to problems in the previous two operas, any attempt at surtitles had now been abandoned; instead, we were given summaries of each number. This was just as well, because the excellent diction of the singing across all three operas had rendered surtitles largely redundant. There were, however, still timing issues and the apparent need to start nearly every explanation with “In which…” quickly became tiresome.

The performing was excellent all round tonight. Particularly memorable was Webster, who gave a stunning Agrippina, displaying phenomenal control over highly virtuosic passages – to rapturous applause from the audience. Sides was once again on top form, this time as a very different Poppea. In a pre-tour interview, Sides was particularly enthusiastic about the pairing of Poppea with Agrippina, stating:

You see the journey of Poppea and the young girl, vulnerable, controlling everything, wanting to have power but gives up power for love, and then eventually she completely forsakes all love for power.

Slightly confusingly to those wishing to trace this character development, Agrippina (the latest of ETO’s operas) features the earlier stage of Poppea’s life, so we see the ‘journey’ only with hindsight. Needless to say, Sides was utterly convincing in both roles, and gave a particularly humorous performance in Agrippina, using her facial expressions to great dramatic effect. She is particularly skilled at making full use of the expressive contrasts in her voice, and there was one moment during a cadenza where she produced a breath-taking diminuendo from fortissimo to pianissimo. The clear, pure voice of countertenor Jake Arditti was well suited to the slightly frenzied role of Nerone. The very different character of Russell Harcourt’s countertenor was well performed as Narciso but lacked the clarity possessed by Arditti, making some of his singing hard to understand without surtitles. Andrew Slater’s rich bass was used once again to comic effect, this time for the lecherous, sometimes drunken, Claudius. Slater’s sonority also provided a much welcome contrast to the overall high-pitched compass given the three countertenors.

For this production, the Old Street Band performed from a new orchestration, put together by Peter Jones. An interesting interview with Jones on ETO’s website provides an insight as to how this was achieved, by returning to Handel’s original scores which are now housed in The British Library and The Foundling Museum. Jones stresses that the orchestration itself is unchanged from Handel’s orchestration, but the translation of the libretto into English necessitated some adjustments, for example, some of the English word stresses are different to the Italian original. The playing was, once again, outstanding and, although this time the orchestra occasionally verged towards overpowering the singers, they provided a fantastic accompaniment to the evening.

Overall, then, while Jason and Agrippina were highly entertaining and enjoyable productions to watch, the oddity surrounding the staging of Poppea rendered the success of the season as a whole slightly more mixed than it perhaps should have been. This arguably serves to highlight the importance of adopting a carefully considered approach when translating the time period of an opera’s setting. While contemporary opera companies will gleefully interpret context, costume, and setting, they are often less willing to make such bold interpretations with regards to the musical score. Prioritising this aspect of the performance as an immovable object, more deserving of our veneration and preservation than any other, reveals a remarkably less progressive or accessible outlook than that which ETO claims as its mission. Indeed, that Agrippina – the most relatively ‘modern’ and securely canonical opera of the season – came across so well, suggests not so much an observable ‘development’ across the three performances, but rather an assumption of teleology. For a modern audience, a Handel opera is perhaps the easiest to market, and the most assured of its ‘inherent’ quality, yet it felt like it received the best of the company’s interpretive efforts.

Poppea, Jason, and Agrippina tour the UK until 23 November 2013.